


Appetizers

by BoltedBee



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Anniversary, Awkward Conversations, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 00:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13306365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoltedBee/pseuds/BoltedBee
Summary: Optimus and Knock Out go out for dinner at the fanciest of restaurants for their special anniversary. Optimus asks Knock Out to be on his best behavior.He asks *really* nicely.





	Appetizers

**Author's Note:**

> I know this concept has been done to death but I wanted to do one myself with the best crack pairing out there. Tell me what you think.
> 
> Notes:  
> /comm chatter/

“The reservations are set, so you won’t have to worry about a thing,” Knock Out said, filing his claws to ultra-fine points. He observed them while he waited on his mate’s reply. He would have preferred to discuss things in-person, but as a senator and figurehead ruler, Optimus was out late far more often than not.

/Thank you for doing that, love,/ Optimus responded, a hint of relief to his voice. /I apologize I could not get around to it myself, but preparations for upcoming elections in any given region can be a taxing demand./

“Of course, you have enough to deal with,” Knock Out responded. He scrolled through pages of reviews of this fancy, popular restaurant Optimus had gone on about. But there were no pictures of the interior. “This place is really that special?”

/Many bots of high standing visit this particular restaurant, and for good reason. It can be difficult to reserve a spot on such a particular evening./

“Yes, well, I suppose you being the Prime has its perks.”

/… Did you inform them I was coming?/

“Of course! How else was I supposed to present us, what name should I have given them? Certainly not mine; there was no way we would get a spot.”

/Knock Out, I did not want any special treatment./

“Even for our anniversary?”

Optimus didn’t respond for a few seconds more than expected, and it brought a smile to Knock Out’s lips. /I suppose in this case-/

“I knew you would see it my way.

“It’s set in three lunar cycles, so you had best be home on time. You’ll need those extra kliks to tidy up and make yourself presentable, after all.”

/I hope that you will assist me in that,/ Optimus chuckled.

“I’d be more than happy to. After all, you’ll have be absolutely pristine for me to seen with you. Otherwise, you’ll just completely ruin my reputation as your fancy, surgeon boyfriend.”

/I will keep that in mind. I only ask that you remain on your best behavior./

“Surely you would not accuse me of doing anything less?” Knock Out asked in mock offense.

/Merely a reminder, Knock Out./ Optimus paused, expecting his mate to fire back immediately. When he didn’t, Optimus continued. /Please./

“Oh don’t worry, my Prime. I’m sure no one will even notice I’m there.”

. . .

After much primping at Knock Out’s insistence, the two finally made their way to their desired destination for their anniversary date. As they drove up to the lot, the line just to go inside was particularly lengthy, as Optimus expected. He was grateful his mate was able to make a reservation on such short notice. Normally, he’d prefer a quiet evening at home with a personalized dish with Knock Out, but as it was their tenth year together and the other mech had never the chance to visit such a high-profile restaurant, it should be extra special.

As they transformed and made their way up the modest steps to the entrance, the other mechs and femmes waiting in line seemed to gasp and gawk as they watched the Prime himself pass them by as if he were a regular mech. Knock Out eyed them as they made their ridiculous gestures. He suddenly better understood why Optimus preferred to stay home. Then again, he made sure that BOTH of them were sparkling and pristine for their evening out, with their armor easily glimmering even in dull mood-lighting. So of course these common-folk would be staring.

Optimus remained straight-faced with his optics forward as he stiffly walked past the onlookers. It was an uncomfortable stride that Knock Out didn’t often see but still easily recognized. An optic for detail was immensely useful.

“Don’t worry, love. We’ll have the intimate space we need once we’re inside,” Knock Out assured him.

Optimus gave a soft smile. “I hope you are right.”

The door-mech saw them in with nary a second-guess and Knock Out immediately trotted ahead to the podium where an ebony-and-lime-green femme stood, ready to greet them. Her bright blue optics went wide as she looked past Knock Out to the towering Prime. She nearly started gaping like a Piranhacon with her pointed dentae on display until Knock Out retrieved her attention.

“No time to be star-struck, dear, the Prime and his mate require a seat,” Knock Out said in a purposely haughty tone.

“Knock Out…” the Prime started, a hint of warning in his tone.

“Oh! Y-yes, right away!” the bulky femme stuttered. She grabbed two menus, and hesitantly glanced between the two mechs. “This way, please!”

Knock Out turned back his slightly amused back with a smirk and the two followed her through a second set of gilded doors to the main hall. Even if Knock Out had never been to this establishment, he certainly had the air of confidence about him that said otherwise. When he took Optimus’ arm at his side to find their seats however, the medic himself was in awe of the high ceiling and the many chandeliers that hung from it, some in an array of colors. The walls were polished to the point of being reflective and fine silks lined the windows. Knock Out almost couldn’t believe this was where Optimus wanted to bring him.

“Here’s your table for this evening!” the cheery femme said, gesturing her arm to the modestly-sized table. It was against the wall, encircled for privacy with padded seats, and an ornate, silver cloth over the table that extended to the floor. “Our server will be with you in a moment!” she finished. Before making her exit, she couldn’t help but stare at the imposing Prime just a few seconds longer. When her optics met Knock Out’s, however, she quickly averted her gaze and returned to her station.

“You’re quite popular this evening,” Knock Out said as he sat down.

Optimus heard the irritation in his voice, but certainly couldn’t fault him for it. After all, it wasn’t often the Prime himself graced such public establishments, regardless of its prestige. “It would seem so. But I am not here for them,” Optimus pointed out, making his seat next to his mate.

“I should hope not.” There was more humor to Knock Out’s tone this time, and it helped lighten their overall mood.

“Surely you are not jealous, are you?” Optimus teased.

“Jealous?” Knock Out scoffed, “Of what? Some petty, shallow bots who want what they can’t have? They can look all they like, but if they touch, you can rest assured I will have something to say about it,” he finished with a show of his claws.

Despite the weak threat of violence, Optimus chuckled. “I do hope it will not have to come to that.”

The lovely couple talked amongst themselves, observed the scenery and the small band playing smooth symphonies at the head of the room. Occasionally, the stray patron from another table would turn and whisper about the Prime sitting so close to them, and every time, Knock Out would sit just a little bit closer to him. Suddenly those other patrons didn’t seem too interested. Eventually, the waiter finally did his job and took their drink orders, then disappeared to the back. Optimus and Knock Out returned their attention to the band, but that only lasted so long before Optimus received a ping on his comm, labeled from a senator, but the signal was hazy.

“Forgive me, Knock Out, but I must take this,” Optimus said.

“Oh, of course, love. I’ll be alright on my own,” Knock Out responded casually.

“I will return soon.”

Optimus quickly stepped out of the booth and out the main door for a better signal, befuddled that the restaurant could muddle comm-link signals. He tried to think little of it as responding to his call was more important. “Forgive me, senator, I could not receive you clearly.”

There was static on the other end, with bits and pieces of a very gruff voice somewhere in the mess.

“Hello?”

Even more static filled the link, and then it cut off. That was concerning. Perhaps it was the entire lot, with likely hundreds of other bots in attendance that scrambled his link? Optimus could not even send a proper text-only message since he didn’t even have a proper address to send it to. He briefly wondered if he should just remain outside for them to call again, or just tell Knock Out he had to leave and attend to political business. But that wasn’t fair to his mate, either; so often did he have to cancel romantic evenings to deal with such matters. If the other senator truly needed the Prime’s assistance so badly, they would stop at nothing to achieve it. Until then, Optimus would wait patiently (anxiously, even) for that to happen. For now, he had his mate to attend to.

Optimus made his way back inside, past the awe-struck crowd, past the swooning hostess, and back to his designated seat. At least, he thought it was his seat…?

The Prime saw the same bots surrounding his seat, but Knock Out was absent. Perhaps he had to visit the wash-racks a moment? Either way, Optimus didn’t want to start without his mate, so he merely took his seat and waited for him to come back.

It was most fortunate that he didn’t have to wait long.

Optimus suddenly felt gentle servos on his knees and he jerked instinctively, about to pull his blaster in a public place, when he heard a gentle voice in his comm: /It’s me. Don’t make a scene./ Optimus paused his movements as naturally as he could, sitting back in his seat. His optics scanned around him, thankful that others were finally less interested in him for the moment so that he could lift the cloth just enough to see Knock Out underneath the table, an incredibly sultry grin plastered on his face.

“Knock Out,” Optimus whispered harshly, “what are you doing?”

“This is a special occasion, is it not? I want to make it memorable for you,” Knock Out purred, drawing his servos over Optimus’ legs, gently urging them apart.

“Love, no, we cannot-“

“Why can’t we…?” Knock Out placed a kiss on Optimus’ codpiece, still stubbornly closed. “Look alert, or you’ll attract attention.”

Optimus’ optics were suddenly forward and darting about. There was the occasional bot who looked back on him, but not in suspicion, it seemed. The band continued to play and other patrons continued to chat amongst themselves. Only Knock Out was really keeping his attention. Optimus looked down to address him, “I still do not think-“

“Don’t think,” Knock Out said, drawing a claw over the seam in the blue pelvis before him, “Just enjoy.”

Before Optimus even realized, his spike pushed forth into Knock Out’s waiting servo, making the cherry mech grin as he took his sweet time stroking the full length. Optimus’ optics shuttered and he suppressed a moan as his shaft was handled. Knock Out pressed kisses to the side and ran his thumb over the slit of the Prime’s spike, making it jump in his servo. Knock Out was far too pleased that he could affect Optimus in such a way. He let go of the sizable girth and placed soft, wet kisses on the underside, where red biolights glowed and pulsed the most. Soon, the length was taken into Knock Out’s eager intake, and drawn upon as if it were life’s very essence.

Optimus vented as evenly as he could with his mate’s mouth on his spike, as if nothing at all of interest was going on in the world. He seemed utterly placid, but couldn’t help the occasional shutter of his optics that he hoped would not draw attention; Optimus’ own attention was kept beneath the table as Knock Out drew heavily on his spike. The hidden mech kept a stern servo at the base of the Prime’s spike as his glossa molested the head. Optimus nearly drew a fist in the cloth of the table, but he knew even something that catch a stray optic. He kept his optics on the band, in hopes it could distract him from his mate’s seductive glossa that positively worshipped his spike for the time being. His hopes were dashed.

“Knock Out, this is not-“ Optimus held his vents as his mate licked his spike from base to tip. He could almost hear the smirk. “… appropriate.”

“You’re not exactly fighting me, here,” Knock Out teased, continuing to give the sizable length small kisses.

Optimus looked around to make sure no one happened to be eyeing him at the moment. He discreetly moved the table cloth aside so he could lock optics with Knock Out. “Come out here.”

“Give me one minute, and if you haven’t changed your mind, I’ll behave myself the rest of the evening.” Knock Out kept Optimus’ gaze, an unspoken promise that he fully intended to keep, however disappointing.

Optimus gave the proposition some thought, optics continually scanning the massive ballroom. With a heavy sigh, he gave Knock Out the answer he wanted. “One minute and no more.”

“Yes, my Prime,” Knock Out purred just enough for Optimus to hear him. He waited until the cloth separated them again before returning his attention to the rigid task before him.

As Knock Out worked, Optimus did his best to stay alert, with his optics forward and servos on the table, digits lightly tapping. But Knock Out was extremely skilled at distraction, and Optimus found himself venting more heavily at every lavish of his spike.

Far too soon, the waiter arrived, brandishing two, tall glasses with long stems filled to the brim with bright, green, sparkling energon. As the drinks were set before him, Optimus forced a smile and nodded curtly at the orange-and-white mech. Unfortunately, it didn’t end there.

“Are you ready to order, Lord Prime?”

Optimus felt the urge to throw his servo down to halt Knock Out’s movements, but thankfully he refrained from what would be seen as odd behavior. “Ah- Not quite,” Optimus bit out. He could have sworn Knock Out chose that moment to deepthroat his spike. “I will- I will wait until my mate returns.”

“Very good, Lord Prime,” the waiter responded. “I shall come back later.”

As soon as the other mech was out of hearing range, Optimus let out a heavy ex-vent. Then, Knock Out removed himself completely from Optimus’ spike.

“Was that one minute?” Optimus asked, trying to cool his frame with longer vents.

“It was. Should I stop?” Knock Out asked, rubbing his servos gently over his mate’s thighs.

Optimus fully expected this lewd situation to dissolve at the time limit, but a new feeling had overtaken him that was no less than shocking. Having his spike sucked was always a pleasure, but having it done while those around him were completely unaware? The prospect was actually… exciting.

“No.”

“Good,” Knock Out returned his affections to Optimus’ spike, positively worshipping every crevice of it with of it with the new permission he was given. He swirled his glossa over the leaking tip, gently suckling the head, his servo working the base.

/Will this be your dinner for tonight?/ Optimus asked through his comm. As much as he secretly enjoyed being deviant around others, he did not need any extraneous attention by talking to “himself”.

/Well there’s certainly enough here to fill me up…/

Optimus smiled, sighing softly as he felt his adoring mate continue his laborious sucking. He suddenly felt more at ease after the encounter with the waiter; he reclined against the seat and sipped his drink, enjoying the sensation as he watched the band play.

/Are you sure you do not wish to join me up here?/

Knock Out released the Prime’s spike with a deliberate “pop”. /Hmm, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to do that once I’m- well, _you’re_ finished./

/Very well,/ Optimus replied with a chuckle.

Funny how his comm-link was now clear as day when it had just been near-broken barely minutes before. Optimus suspected Knock Out had managed to orchestrate it, and it was a simple but clever ruse that he gave the other mech credit for. If it wasn’t- and Optimus hoped it was- the mystery senator on the other line just had a bad connection.

It was both a blessing and at times a curse that Optimus had longevity when it came to interfacing. Knock Out, it seemed, was quite determined to make these moments last. As Optimus brought his glass to his lips again, he unintentionally locked optics that belonged to an even more imposing mech that grinned back at him with pointed dentae as he made his way over. Optimus quickly set his glass down, his other servo discreetly reaching down to halt Knock Out’s movement.

“Ah, Optimus!” the intimidating mech greeted, “How have you been, old friend?”

A chill ran up both Optimus and Knock Out’s spinal struts at the sound of that gruff baritone. One was suddenly nervous, but both shudders felt excitement.

“Megatron,” Optimus replied in a low tone, nodding in the larger mech’s direction. “I have been well. And yourself?”

It was clear to Knock Out that Optimus was going to try to keep the conversation brief and to the point. He only vaguely hoped that Megatron wouldn’t notice, but then again, Knock Out didn’t want Optimus to get so flustered that it turned to frustration and ruined the remainder of their night.

“Quite well! Would it be alright if I sat here?” the bigger mech asked.

Optimus noticeably hesitated, barely saying a coherent word as Megatron sat on the other end of the table. Optimus tensed, his servo becoming a bit tighter on Knock Out’s face and neck. It felt oddly pleasurable, but Knock Out refrained from vocalizing it.

“Are you alone?” Megatron asked.

“Knock Out is here with me. He has gone to speak with the chef about the quality of our food.”

Knock Out smirked against the Prime’s thumb as he heard Megatron laugh heartily.

“I see he has not changed.”

“Indeed. I doubt even the promise of matrimony could change someone as… unique as him.”

Knock Out felt his spark leap as Megatron responded, “Oh? Have you proposed yet?”

“Not yet. Perhaps when I feel we are both ready.” With little warning, Optimus pulled Knock Out’s helm back to his spike, his mate eagerly accepting it into his throat, thankfully with little noise.

Elation and spark pain filled Knock Out’s chest, but it was hard to focus on with Optimus guiding his movements on his spike. He was pleasantly surprised at how fast the Prime grew to enjoy such voyeuristic behavior. With such a cluster of emotion clouding his thought process, Knock Out strained his audials to listen to the two mechs above him as his optics idly rolled to the back of his helm.

“How is Soundwave doing?” Optimus asked. Knock Out was exceedingly impressed that Optimus could speak so plainly while also fragging his mate’s mouth. Knock Out’s valve cover opened, letting lubricant drip on the floor. He felt as if he could come already.

“Soundwave is well; he’s carrying four of our own. I must admit I’m surprised how complacent he is with being a stay-at-home carrier, but I am grateful. He has always been a hard-working mech, but since he began carrying, he has been taking excellent care of himself, and the sparklings by extension,” Megatron explained. There was so much pride in his tone that Knock Out couldn’t help but wonder if Optimus would speak the same way if it was his own mate who was carrying…

“That is good to hear. And what of your governing over Kaon?”

“Let us just say that I should be joining you on the senatorial floor in the near future.”

Optimus’ servo kept its grip on Knock Out’s helm and maintained a steady pace manipulating it over his spike. Knock Out’s own servo went to his valve, smearing the lubricant as his digits penetrated the dripping hole.

“You always have been the eloquent speaker.”

“Yes, but I am without the- shall we say ‘friendlier’ appearance. I seem dangerous without even uttering a word. But you, on the other hand, look easy-going and approachable.

“That is nothing against you, of course. My citizens believe in my words regardless of appearance, and I have shown faith by delivering on their concerns time and time again. I am a mech of my word.”

“Certainly, and that is what makes you that much more a formidable politician.”

He couldn’t quite narrow it to a singular reason, but somehow, listening to Optimus talk politics could be unbearably arousing, and Knock Out almost hated himself for it. But he grew more charged up by the second just hearing his mate talk passionately; adding another digit to his valve just helped to put him on the cusp of overload.

“I am glad for the confidence, Optimus. But you know the people will take you more seriously once you are bonded, don’t you?”

Knock Out moaned around Optimus’ spike and nearly gasped once he was pulled off of it by the Prime’s stern grip. “They have their utmost faith in me to serve them to the best of my ability, regardless of bondship.” Optimus ran an affectionate but forceful thumb over Knock Out’s cheek before resting it on the back of his neck. Knock Out eagerly took the hint and took his mate’s spike back into his intake, sucking fervently, his fingers still buried in his valve. He was _so close_ … “It has been nice catching up with you, Megatron, but I believe I should attempt to contact Knock Out. He has been gone too long for my liking,” Optimus said, unbeknownst to the other mech, his missing mate was preoccupied with a spike in his throat, now at the mercy of Optimus’ controlling servo.

“Ah, yes, I will let you return to that,” Megatron responded with a grin. “We should do this again sometime, with the four of us together.”

“Agreed.”

There was a strain to the Prime’s voice, one that Knock Out recognized all too well. As he expected, Optimus pulled the pointed helm flush against his codpiece, his spike pulsing in Knock Out’s throat, the smaller mech eagerly swallowing every drop of his mate’s release above him. Knock Out at last reached his own peak with a moan that was muffled by Optimus’ spike. He had not even noticed Megatron making his exit, but it didn’t matter when Optimus was affectionately rubbing the back of his neck, allowing him control over his own helm again. Despite the “abuse” he’d suffered, Knock Out reluctantly pulled off Optimus’ spike, casually wiping off his mouth before closing his panel and quietly climbing back into his seat next to his mate.

“Welcome back, love,” Optimus greeted.

Knock Out noticed how flushed his face was despite how casual he was being. It was adorable. “Thank you. Did I miss anything?” he asked, wiping his claws off on neatly-folded napkins.

“Megatron came by to say hello and he would like to have dinner with us and Soundwave eventually.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely. I suppose we can arrange that in our collectively busy schedule.” Knock Out couldn’t help but grin at their conversation. Eventually he practically giggled to himself, covering his face with his servo.

“Is that amusing?”

“In a sense,” Knock Out answered, his laughing fit still wracking his frame slightly. He took a moment to calm himself, taking a deserved swig of his own drink before speaking again. “I can’t say I’ve seen you this… _playful_ , at least not in public.”

There was, admittedly, something funny about the two of them having such a casual conversation after what Knock Out had just made Optimus endure. Optimus himself never thought he’d do something so obscene, but he found there was a very genuine excitement to it that he never really got to enjoy, especially with what little time he got to spend with Knock Out. It turned out for the better, and Optimus was glad for the experience.

“Perhaps it is the high-grade, or even your infectiously positive attitude that has rubbed off on me, but…” Optimus paused, considering his words in the bright, fizzy fluorescence of his drink. “I believe we should have more evenings like this.” His optics met Knock Out’s attentive and intrigued ones. “Not all the time, mind you. But if you wish to surprise me like this again eventually, I am certain I will have fewer objections.”

“Is that so, my Prime?” Knock Out asked. “I will keep that in mind.”

“I am glad you are around to keep me on alert,” Optimus teased.

Soon after Knock Out had made his resurgence, the waiter came by again, this time able to graciously take both orders before disappearing once again to the back. Optimus explained to Knock Out how on-edge he felt the first time while talking with him. Knock Out reassured him of how proud of him he was. But there was another question on his mind as well.

“So were you talking about bonding with me seriously or just using it as fodder for your conversation with Megatron?” Knock Out asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Optimus was only as stoic as he was serious as he gave his mate his answer. “I was serious. I believe we have both known it for some time now, that we are all but destined to become one. However, I wish to make the event more momentous to mark the occasion.”

Knock Out couldn’t help but grin as he set his glass down, casting a side glance at Optimus. “I do believe this counts as ‘spoilers’ doesn’t it? I know you’ll propose eventually, so doesn’t that dampen it a bit?”

“Perhaps it was less tactful to reveal such plans in that way. But you do not know when or how I will do it, so the anticipation will be hovering over you the entire time.” Optimus gave his mate the most slag-eating grin that Knock Out never thought was possible, and he never doubted the Prime for a second on all his promises.

“I suppose you’re right,” Knock Out replied softly, ignoring the fact that his spark had leaped several times at each mention of bonding. “So long as you make good on your promise.”

“I could do nothing else but.”

Knock Out picked up his glass, only half-empty due to his prolonged absence, raising it to Optimus. “To us.”

Optimus picked up his own glass, surprisingly more full than his mate’s. “To us. And happy anniversary, love.”

Knock Out only smiled.

They clinked their glasses together and drank fully from them, feeling warmth not only from the fancy high-grade, but the adoration they had for one another curled tight in their sparks and the promises made of their future.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing new dynamics is fun.
> 
> Comments and crits welcome.


End file.
